


Mercy

by QuickLikeLight



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, His Last Vow Spoilers, Office Sex, PWP, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:05:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock comes to beg Molly's forgiveness for the rather unfortunate incident with the drugs test.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mercy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [picturestoproveit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/picturestoproveit/gifts).



> This is my first ever time writing Sherlolly, and it's unbeta'd, unbritpick'd. All errors are my own. My dearest Kate had a bad day, and I thought this would make her smile.

“Ah, Molly, I was, ah, hoping you were in…”

“Recovered, have you?” Her voice was hard, brittle, so much colder than it had been in his head when she saved him. When his thoughts of her had saved him.

“Feeling much, ah… better, yes,” Sherlock cringed, stumbling over sentiment. Still not quite his area.

“Yes, well, access to unlimited amounts of morphine will do that for you won’t it?” She stabbed at specimen under the microscope with a bit more force than necessary. “How convenient for you, that getting shot dovetailed so prettily with your drugs habit.”

“Molly, I –”

“No,” she interrupted, facing him for the first time. Her safety glasses covered most of her small face, and her hair was pulled decidedly back, not to the side. Her eyes were bright and angry. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come in here, and pretend it didn’t happen. Heroin, Sherlock. After all this time, and you just… and you didn’t even call me, and you could have, but you didn’t…”

“I’m sorry, Molly,” his voice was quiet, those posh tones so much softer than they used to be, before they’d fooled the world together.

“It’s easy to be sorry, Sherlock,” She pushed the glasses off, up onto her head, and pulled off the gloves she’d been using to work. Obviously she wasn’t going to be getting anything done for a while.

“I wish to make it up to you,” his face was open, guileless, or at the very least, guileless _looking_. Molly knew better though.

“Why?”

“I – wait, what?” One eloquent eyebrow quirked.

“Why would you want to make it up to me, Sherlock? You’ve no reason,” she slammed her hand down on the lab table, punctuating her words, “to make _anything_ up to _me_. I think we’re all _extremely_ aware of that.”

Sherlock reached out to grasp her wrist, pulling her hand to his chest, over the still-healing wound that Mary had put there.

“I’m not sure why you’ve gone back to thinking that you don’t matter to me, Molly Hooper, but there is no one else I owe more of an explanation to than you,” he spoke slowly, softly, keeping her hand pressed there against cotton and scar tissue. Molly huffed a disbelieving laugh, but the hand on hers gave her goosebumps, and the steady thrum of his heart under her touch made her own skip a beat.

“He pulled you out of a smack house and brought you to me for drugs testing, Sherlock. To protect you. He was so worried. No matter what’s happened, you can’t tell me that’s not…”

“It’s not. Not what you think, anyway. None of it is what you think, because you’re smart, Molly, so smart and missing so many of the facts,” he stepped closer, wrapped one strong arm around her waist.

“What facts am I missing, then?” Molly could feel her voice shaking, but she stood strong, looked right into the depths of those viridian eyes.

“Almost all of them, Molly dear.” The kiss was tentative, searching, a gentle press of lip to lip and then tongue to tongue, and Molly was falling. She could feel her anger slipping away under the hesitancy of his touch. Touching him was a mistake, and she knew it, but every breath she panted over his face spoke, _give me my sin again_.

He pulled away, smirking, pleased with himself. “I really should be heading back now, but if you’ll –”

Molly wrapped an arm around his waist and slid the other up to his shoulder, holding him in place.

“That was it, was it? Apologize, give me a kiss, and then just go?” Sherlock faltered, eyes widening under her scrutiny. “I don’t think so, Sherlock Holmes.” Molly guided him backward until the backs of his thighs hit one of the low examination tables. Pinned between the table and her body, Sherlock froze, hands flailing in the air slightly.

“Molly, you’re at work, I just came to apologize, so if you’ll just forgive me I can go and we can forget this happened and perhaps later I can, I don’t know, offer you tea or something and then–”

“I don’t want tea, Sherlock,” she grinned. She pressed her body against his and he stilled, his hands moving to cup her hips.

“Then, ah, um… what is it that you do want?”

“You’re the detective. Why don’t you deduce it?” She rolled her hips in small circles, grinding lightly against his thigh, just a tease of touch and pressure that made the breath catch in both of their throats. Sherlock bent down to bestow on her mouth another kiss, fierce and longing as the first one was false and sweet. She gave as good as she got.

“Office. Your office. Now, please,” Sherlock pushed at her ineffectually, but Molly stood her ground.

“I should have you right here, you know. Take you apart until everyone on this floor knows what Sherlock Holmes sounds like when he loses control. I’m sure it would be breathtaking,” she smiled and stood on her tiptoes, burying her face in his throat. She nipped and sucked small kisses into the beautiful column of his neck, leaving brilliant blossoms of colour on pale skin.

“Molly, please,” he murmured into her hair.

“Please what?” she continued her ministrations, rocking her hips against his thigh as she sucked dark kisses into his skin.

“Have mercy,” his voice was choked as he pushed his pelvis against her stomach, the outline of his erection clear through the tailoring of his trousers. Molly stilled, brought her hands to his face so that she could tilt it toward hers, smile against his mouth.

“You only ever needed to ask, you know,” she whispered to his lips.

“This is… asking.” His chest heaved slightly and small shivers wracked his body as she caressed that cupid’s bow mouth with her own. She took his hand and pulled him gently out of the morgue, checking to be sure no one was in the hallway, and then into her small, cramped, completely isolated office. As soon as the door was closed and locked, he advanced on her, backing her up against the desk in a mirror of her earlier aggression.

“I was going to let you go, Molly,” he said, allowing the heavy coat to slide off of his shoulders and onto the floor. “I would have apologized, and kissed you, and let you go. I hope you know that.”

“And why would I have wanted that?” She peeled the white lab coat off, her armor just as much as the Belstaff was his.

“Because I’m an addict,” he ran his nose up the side of her neck, breathing in the perfume of clinical chemistry and warm skin. “I will not take what is not given, but if you are offering, I will have you.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she grinned, pulling her jumper up over her head, scrabbling at the buttons on his too-tight shirt.

“I am not kind. I am not… loving. I will not be Tom, Molly,” he stopped, speaking right into her ear, his voice barely an exhalation of breath. She shuddered and then spun them, quickly and effectively pushing him back and up onto her desk. A pile of papers spread out over the floor, but she barely noticed.

“Well, that’s good then, isn’t it? Because I didn’t want Tom. I only ever wanted you,” she inched her trousers down, revealing pale pink knickers and a white bra under her open button-down. “I know you, Sherlock Holmes, and if there’s anyone that can handle you, it’s me.”

“Oh, you can handle me, can you?” his eyebrows shot up, but a large smile graced his face, humor and desire warring on his features. She reached forward, grasping his cock through the thin cotton of his trousers and pants, and squeezed gently. His head lolled back on his shoulders and a whimper escaped his mouth.

“I think I can, yeah,” she laughed. Together, they worked off his clothing between heated kisses, until he sat bare arsed on her desk. Wordlessly, she dropped to her knees in front of him, taking in the sight of his long, pale, scarred body naked in front of her. Her hand was pale and cool around the hard pink length of his cock, and his whole body tensed as she stroked it.  His eyes closed tight, and for all his warnings and threats, Molly could tell she was the first in a very long time to have this sort of control over the great Sherlock Holmes. She spotted her bag in the chair and searched a bit frantically inside it, one handed, until she landed upon a small square package. The ripping of foil seemed deafening in the small room, and the latex felt stiff under her fingers, but Sherlock’s face as she rolled the condom on, filled with a sort of awed desire, made it worthwhile. She rubbed her cheek, so soft, against his hip as he freed her hair from its ponytail. Molly licked the crease of his thigh, tasting the clean tang of sweat there, and above her Sherlock gasped with want.

“Oh,” she laughed, her face mere inches from his cock. “You asked for mercy, didn’t you? I guess I can be obliging.” She swallowed him down in one slick stroke, her hand smoothing up the bottom and meeting her mouth. She pressed her tongue to the frenulum, caressing through the latex. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked softly, sliding her mouth over the hard heat. Sherlock grasped hold of her hair, not pulling, but obviously attempting to hold on, as barely-muffled moans tumbled out of his mouth. A brief graze of teeth had him pushing her back, back, onto her heels as he pulled out of her mouth.

“You can’t – ah, no, I can’t, Molly,” he babbled, pulling her to her feet. He captured her mouth with his, searing and desperate. For a moment they stood there, trading heated kisses as he got himself back under control, and then it was as if a light went off in his brain. A decision had been made, files had been accessed, long-forgotten memories of carnal pleasure pulled out of the recycling bin. He spun them both, scooping her up and sitting her on the desk, mouth ravaging her neck and ears. His hands skimmed over her skin touching as much of her as he could, pushing her knickers down and out of the way, gliding up under the wire of her bra. One hand squeezed her breast gently, rolling the nipple between long, capable fingers, and the other slid down into the folds of her sex. His tongue pressed into her mouth as his fingers circled her clit, leaving her weak-kneed. She braced herself on her elbows, one knee slung over his arm while the other foot braced against the floor. His fingers worked in deft circles on her flesh, pushing her toward oblivion, sure and steady.

Her skin was hot, achingly hot, blistering as she neared the edge. She thought briefly of the poor souls whose offices neighbored hers, but a quick twist of Sherlock’s wrist as two fingers delved inside of her shut everything from her mind except the motion of his hands and mouth. She pushed her hips steadily against his hand, squeezing around his fingers as she ground her clit against his wrist. He rested his forehead on her shoulder and groaned, watching as his fingers disappeared into her body and retreated, only to disappear again. The intensity of his eyes felt like extra hands on her body, picking her apart with confidence and grace.

“Fuck, Molly,” he growled as she pulled his face back up to hers with her fingers in his dark curls.

“That’s what I was counting on, Sherlock,” she squirmed, so close. His hand stilled and she deflated slightly, feeling the peak of impending orgasm recede, but then his cock was nudging at her cunt, gloriously blunt and thick and his and _there_ , _God_.

He pushed inside of her with one smooth motion, the length of him filling her like they were made for it. The edge of the desk bit into the skin of her arse, but Molly barely noticed it, focused as she was by the smooth slick slide of Sherlock’s cock inside her, his hand on her breast, pushing the shirt that still clung to her off of her shoulders so that he could suck harsh kisses there. She groaned, letting her head fall back wantonly and pushing her neck up to meet his mouth. His hips snapped with brutal efficiency, driving her relentlessly toward release. Sherlock pulled up on her hip with one hand while the other found her clit, grinding the heel of his hand against her sensitive flesh in harsh, steady circles.

Molly arched up, pressing hard against his hand and hips as the crest of orgasm washed over her, his name on her lips. Her body clenched convulsively around him and Sherlock bent over, capturing her face with his hands as he fell over the precipice with her, his mouth covering hers. His hips stuttered and slowed as he emptied into the condom, and Molly wished for one perverse moment that she could feel the evidence of his pleasure dripping out of her body.

They panted there, together, bent over her desk and dripping with sweat, slowly coming back to their bodies after being forced out by the deluge of sensation. Sherlock chuckled against the skin of her collarbone, and Molly found herself laughing as well. More than five years of longing looks, and this was how they finally addressed this… thing… between them? Still, she thought, it had been a brilliant shag.

“Get off me you great beast,” she pushed against his shoulders, mirthful and sated. “What’s so funny, anyway?”

“Oh, just thinking of the differences between men and women. Always a fascinating study,” He sat up and pulled out, taking care with the condom until he got it into the small trashcan near her desk. She watched him dress quickly, efficiently, without thought as she lazed there feeling rather boneless.

“What differences are those, then?”

“Well, John definitely didn’t shag me after hitting me in the face. Score one for the female gender, I’d say.”

The look on her face apparently said plenty, as he followed it immediately with, “Sorry, Molly, sorry, please, have mercy.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com).


End file.
